


Contact

by noiresetoiles



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Ambiance Exploration, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Intimacy, POV Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 03:47:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17317502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noiresetoiles/pseuds/noiresetoiles
Summary: He was no artist, no poet. Words failed him more often than not. But he thought that maybe, just maybe... He could count of what he trusted most to show her how much she meant to him.





	Contact

**Author's Note:**

> A little something for the Rivamika Wintermoon. Check out [rivamikaevents](https://rivamikaevents.tumblr.com/) for more maybe c:  
> Another ambiance exploration. But focused on intimacy this time ! I hope I it's the right rating, if not please tell me ;w;
> 
> I have some longer works brewing up but I'm incredibly slow, but soon I hope !

  


  


_Moonlit, her hair was silver threads._  
  
Her eyes were mirrors that reflected the stars above, made them brighter and shinier. Her body was one of a goddess', sprawled languidly on the sheets nearly as pearly white as her skin. Such skin, was akin to the porcelain of his most expensive china. She was mesmerizing, glorious, ethereal even, under the dim light of the astral mother watching upon them there up in the sky.  
  
He was no artist. Wish he would have been. He would have gladly traded his tea cups to have such skill, to, at least, chant her once in lyrical verses what she instigated in him. He would recite how he was aware of his luck to know her, how immensely fortunate he felt to belong alongside her, if the wonders of words were known to him. However, they sadly vanished on his tongue each time he tried to form more than a retort. Hell, they flew out of his mind on a regular basis ! He wasn't made for this.  
  
He could only watch, admire her like this. Could only devour the sight of her naked form while she quietly waited for him to move, to act. Forever silent, devoid of the right sentences, of the best intonations. He thought though that maybe, if he couldn't be a poet, he could count of what he trusted most to show her.  
  
This body of his. It was a weapon, finely adjusted to move efficiently and get the job done without hindrance. His limbs, his hands, responded perfectly to his inputs, conscious or not. Never once had it failed him since the awakening of power ; he knew how to give the slightest movement, the tiniest change, all to accomplish his goals. This was who he was, who he became in the end. A soldier. Using his touch he knew how to do, and it would be far better than trying to sew together inelegant sentences with strange phrasings.  
  
_So that's what he did._  
  
He tried to whisper to her with his mouth flush against hers. Told how sublime she was with his fingertips brushing delicately against her torso. Declaimed his undying love by delicately roaming on her body, grazing lightly, scratching sensually at most. He tenderly narrated the brewing feelings as he traced her back's concave line, the curve of her breast. He lost himself in his own bravery while he caressed her, his full attention on her every movement, every tremors. His grammar was now the pressure he applied to his actions, and his vocabulary the range of gestures he knew. It dawned upon him that they still communicated, as he searched her gaze for her approvals and signs. He noted happily when his lips followed the tracks of his hands, that it was a possible thing.  
  
He felt empowered. The world was limited to them, to the touches they felt. He would even willingly fuse with her, if it meant giving her what she wanted, what she needed. The most precious reward was to capture her pleasure, to hear her mewl and sigh, to call to him for more.  
  
Moonlit, her hair was silver threads, and he lovingly toyed with them.  
  
In the far hours of the night, were everything was painted with the blue hue of the moon, they talked with a language that wasn't spoken. As sincere as sounds, his emotions were conveyed with kisses alongside her jaw, and plenty other tricks he knew she liked. It was a communication she knew how to answer to, as she was the same as him. As soldier. She understood perfectly what he meant and replied by digging her nails in his arms, palming at his muscles and igniting a flame within him oh so easily.  
  
_And for this moment, he truly felt grateful._

  



End file.
